Date: Sun, 17 Dec 1995 22:04:58 -0500 (EST)
From: And Justice for All
Subject: AJA RELEASE - Op-ed by Rev. Meg Riley
[The following opinion/editorial is by Rev. Meg Riley, co-chair of the
Advisory Board of And Justice for All (AJA). AJA is a Washington, DC,
based organization dedicated to bring heterosexuals to the front lines of
the struggle for bisexual, gay, lesbian and transgender rights.
Permission is granted to reprint with attribution.]
by Rev. Meg Riley
co-chair, Advisory Board
And Justice for All
In April of 1993, I was one of more than 2,000 Unitarian Universalists
who, led by our President and Board of Trustees, joined hundreds of
thousands of others and marched in Washington, DC, for Gay, Lesbian, and
Bisexual Equality.
Since that time, I have repeatedly heard others who were there describe
that event. When the person speaking is gay, lesbian or bisexual, the
punchline, spoken with something akin to awe, is almost always: "And at
least half of the UU's marching were heterosexual!"
Many of the heterosexuals tell a different story, more like this: "As we
marched, hundreds of people, mostly gay, called to us from the side of
the streets and profusely thanked us for our witness. I had never been
aware that it mattered so much to gay people that heterosexuals march
with them."
My heterosexual friends who march in the P-FFLAG (Parents, Families and
Friends of Lesbians and Gays) contingents in marches always tell similar
stories, of being thanked, often by people in tears. Why? What is it
that makes those of us who are lesbian, bisexual and gay so surprised, so
emotional at the presence of support from our heterosexual allies?
Perhaps it's the deeply engrained, implicit policy of "don't ask, don't
tell" that governs most of our lives. That policy keeps us uncertain of
our worth, our value, or even our existence, in the heterosexual world.
We are so accustomed to looking in the mirror and seeing no
reflection--or a distorted, negative one--that when we see one which is
compassionate and supportive, we are overcome with emotion.
Perhaps it's because our lives don't seem to matter to anyone but us. Our
jobs, no matter how well we do them, are often held only at the cost of
silence about our home lives. Our children, regardless of the quality of
our care for them, may be taken from us at will. Our faith, no matter
how deep and sustaining, is called blasphemy. Our military service, far
from being a matter of pride to our country, is labelled a threat to
national security. Whether we're celebrating our paper anniversary or
our golden one, we are still "single" in hospital emergency rooms or on
tax forms.
When we don't see ourselves and our lives reflected back to us accurately
in the non-gay world, we begin to believe that our lives are marginal,
freakshows, of no interest to anyone but ourselves. If we are going to
know that we matter, that our lives have meaning not just for us but for
the world, we need to know that it is noticed when we are beautiful, when
we are kind, when we are abused, or when we are marginalized. In short,
I want heterosexuals to become our allies, and to become activists for
our equality.
I don't want activism by heterosexual allies as a replacement for
activism by gay, lesbian bisexual and transgendered people on our own
behalf, but in addition to that activism. I don't look to heterosexual
people to do anything for us, but to do it with us. I want the world to
know that our issues are human issues, that our lives matter, no more and
no less than anyone else's.
I want hundreds of educated heterosexuals to show up at their town square
every time homophobia is promoted in City Council meetings. I want
dozens of heterosexuals to write well thought out letters to their local
newspapers each time homophobic language or behavior occurs. I want
scores of compassionate heterosexuals to speak up each time scripture is
used as a hammer to beat on those who are "an abomination".
Next time there's a March on Washington for Gay, Lesbian and Bi Equality,
I want every single one of the millions of marchers to say, in a tone
akin to awe, "And at least half of the people marching were heterosexual!"
I am proud to serve as advisory co-Chair for And Justice for All, a new
national group created to mobilize heterosexual advocacy for gay,
lesbian, bisexual and transgender equality.